


of pretty boys and broken promises

by pettytooru



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Photographer, Big brother Shiro, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Fluff, Grief, Japanese Keith (Voltron), M/M, Mentions of terminal illness, Photographer AU, Photographer Keith, Slow Burn, Some swearing here and there, Trans Female Pidge | Katie Holt, but also angst, but lots of tender moments, but they arent biologically related, coran might turn up at some point, drama student lance, i love them, its not too bad, keith and shiro live together, keith's given name is akira, mentions of minor character death, not amongst the main characters dont worry, they all go to art school
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24170074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettytooru/pseuds/pettytooru
Summary: There was a beat of silence as Keith stared at the other boy. Lance, with his eyes closed and mouth in a lazy smile - grasping his drink loosely between his hands on the table in front of him. He could tell that Lance was lost in his memories - rocking his head very slowly side to side in a calming manner. Before he knew it, Keith found himself reaching into his bag, and grabbing a hold of his camera.- Photographer!au: in which Keith promises to never do portrait photography again after the death of his father, but there's something about one of his new friends that is just begging to be immortalised in a picture.[SLOW UPDATES!!!!! I have it all planned but im knees deep in other work atm, sorry!!]
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> welcome!!! the idea for this fic came to me at like 2am one night so i hope you enjoy <3
> 
> the title is inspired by 'of florists & tennis shoes' by Venpast, and you should absolutely go check it out!!! its one of my favourite klance fics and it is beautifully written <3
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/7512295?view_full_work=true

You would have thought that, being almost half way through his first year of college, Keith would have more than _one person_ to invite to his mid-year exhibition.

He didn’t.

That being said, he wasn’t complaining - Shiro was basically family at this point, and was embarrassingly gushing about his work. Keith wasn’t sure if he could even handle anyone else being there; with Shiro standing inches away from the A2 prints of his landscape series he had taken over a months-period in the desert, watching it as though something in the picture was about to move, he was already feeling the embarrassment settle in.

“You don’t need to stand that close, you know.”

“The details in this are incredible, Keith!” Shiro said, ignoring the other boy’s protests. “I can’t believe you managed to find undocumented cave markings in the middle of the desert, and to take such beautiful pictures of them too.”

Keith felt as if a colony of ants were running around under his skin; heat was crawling up his neck and across his face. It wasn’t that he hated compliments, he actually felt a swell of undeniable pride whenever Shiro cooed about his work, he just didn’t know how to take them. Should he laugh and thank him? Deny it and play humble? Or should he tell the truth and agree; saying how proud he was of his work, talk about how exhausting it was going out looking for a subject in the inescapable heat of the desert, how lonely it had gotten - living in his father’s old shack for a month, no company at his side whilst he watched the constellations at night.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he realised Shiro was staring at him, seeking a response. Keith just huffed, shrugging gently. A sad smile played his adoptive brother’s lips as he tilted his head to the left, a soft look in his eyes. He settled on pulling Keith into his side and resting an arm around his shoulders, squeezing him as a means of encouragement. Keith had never been one with words, and appreciated the silence that settled over them.

The peaceful and familiar moment was broken as a shriek echoed through the exhibition room.

“You did this!? You’re telling me you _painted_ this? I knew you were good but- _holy shit_ , you painted _this_?” Followed by a graceful laugh and a polite hush. 

The exhibition room was being shared by the Photography first years and Fine Art second years, each student having an assigned space to put up their work. These two courses shared a building of the college, and often collaborated in mini-projects and competitions. Keith didn’t consider himself as a great team player, but he did enjoy hearing all about the work that the fine art students did. There always seemed to be a diverse mix of work up there, ranging from paintings to sculptures to walk in rooms full of clown dolls. Keith had learnt not to question it. Creativity seemed to take many, _many_ different forms.

The commotion had come from a couple of spaces away; a group of students all stood around a girl with thick, curly, white hair and dark brown skin. Allura. She was renowned for her stark realism and effortless use of bold, captivating colours - it was as if she could take any subject at all and make it her own. She mainly focused on the flowers from her hometown - always adding a personal touch. All the first years in this department knew her, as she was also the head of the debate team - not bad at all for a second year student. 

To her left stood the commotion himself. Lanky limbs flying around as he gaped at the picture on the wall, a tall Latino kid was freaking out over his friend’s work. Keith couldn’t help it when a small smile tugged at his lips - and he had thought Shiro was bad. If anyone had done that to him-

“Allura!”

“Oh, Shiro! What are you doing here?” The entire group had turned to look in their direction; Keith looked up at his acquaintance with a look of utter confusion plastered on his face. How did he know her?

“I’m here for my roommate!” Shiro motioned to the boy at his side, letting go of his shoulder to pull Allura into a hug. “He does photography, you should have a look at his work - it’s amazing.”

There it was again. Ants under his skin. _Why_ did Shiro have to brag on his behalf?

“I heard about this! The geology forum i'm in spoke all about the recently discovered cave markings in the desert - that was you?” One of the other members of the group spoke up; a small girl with glasses that were much too large for her face. She looked younger than the rest of them, and Keith couldn’t help but wonder if she was even a student here. 

“Yeah.” Another shrug. Keith cursed himself out for sounding so uninterested. He actually felt elated at the fact that he was being recognised for his work.

“Geology forum? Pidge, even for you that’s kinda lame.” The Latino boy quipped.

“Get out of here, Lance! I’m a member of it too and you know it.” The final member of the group spoke; he was a large boy wearing a mustard t-shirt and ripped jeans. Keith recognised him as Hunk - this guy was always hanging around in the student common room, handing out various baked goods. The gorgeous taste of the Chantilly cake slices that he had brought in at lunchtime a few weeks previous still lingered in his mouth.

“Oh, and that makes it any better? It just means you’re both nerds!” Hunk lightly shoved the taller boy (Lance, as he had just heard him called) with a smile tugging at his lips - taking the comment in jest. 

The trio continued to bicker. As glad as he was to have the attention taken away from him, Keith was a tiny bit bummed at the lack of acknowledgement the picture itself had gotten from his peers. Having taken it on his mother’s film camera, the grain that had become more pronounced after enlarging the picture added to the timeless feel that it seemed to have. The focus point was the deep shadow that announced the grooves in the rock; they wouldn’t have been visible without the sunrise that streamed through the cave entrance, which is most likely why they hadn’t been discovered sooner. _I mean, who in their right mind spends the night camped out in a desert cave waiting for the sunrise, with no fire or light to keep them company?_ Keith thought.

He sighed. 

As well as the grooves and the shadows, the picture had an admirable feeling of depth to it. Photographing on film had no guarantees, as it didn’t provide Keith with the liberty of checking to see if the picture had come out well until he was already back at home. Yet, that was Keith’s favourite part; developing the pictures in the college’s dark room, the red light softening his vision and the chemicals in the developers filling his nose. 

Familiarity. That's what it was. 

Shiro and Allura chatted among themselves; it turns out that Shiro had been the one to get her a place on the debate team when he was in his final year. He had finished his time at college; living with Keith in the city whilst working full-time as a local school’s wellbeing counsellor. 

Although, he was only in work a couple days a week, still being very young in his field of work, meaning he had an additional part-time placement at Keith’s favourite coffee shop, the Castleship Cafe - which wasn’t too bad of an arrangement. Shiro would bring him the sweetest caffeinated drink he could possibly make - an instant mood changer for Keith - whilst he waited for the older boy’s shift to end. No matter how bad he was feeling, Keith’s sweet tooth and closest friend could always be counted on to help, even if it was just a little bit. 

Despite having two jobs, Shiro had still managed to come to Keith’s exhibition. This thought made him almost forget about the short-lived disappointment that had just flooded his mind.

“What were you doing out in the desert, then?” Keith was once again pulled from his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Well, you were obviously out there for a while - all your pictures were taken there.” Lance had looked through the small catalogue of work that sat beneath his main prints whilst Keith had been away in his head. 

“Oh, right, yeah-” He muttered, caught off guard. “I spent a lot of time out there growing up, so I went back to all the places me and my dad would camp and map the stars, photographing the places we sat. I had planned to do some kind of documentary thing, but then I found all the markings at sunrise after a night sleeping in a cave. I thought they were cooler than what I had planned. It was all just luck … really…” Keith trailed off, suddenly very conscious that he was rambling to a complete stranger.

“That’s amazing! I’ve never heard of anyone who put that much dedication into getting a photo.” Keith looked up from the floor, expecting to be met with a look of sarcasm. Instead, he was met with wide, strikingly blue eyes and an earnest smile. “Did your dad help you with this then? Out in the desert?”

Keith couldn’t contain the flicker of distress that crossed his face at the mention of his father, and the other boy immediately backtracked.

“Actually, you look like you could handle it on your own.” He laughed, nervously. “I mean you’re kinda short but also a bit intimidating if i'm being honest.” It was Lance’s turn to flinch, a deep red spreading across his cheeks and neck. “Not in a bad way! I mean- you have those big boots on and if you stepped on my foot i’d probably cry. They look cool though! They look nice with the fingerless gloves- I mean- they suit your look-”

Thankfully, Hunk stepped in and scooped Lance up into his arms - stopping the boy from digging himself into an even bigger hole. For once, Keith seemed to be the least embarrassed one in the conversation.

“Come on, buddy. We are getting lunch!” Hunk then turned to Keith, not even reacting to the way Lance squirmed and laughed in his arms. “Hey, Keith - good job on the photos.” 

And with that, the group left. Shiro turned back to Keith, laughing good-naturedly at the stunned look on the younger boy’s face. 

“Allura was telling me about how you have quite the reputation among the photography department - she has heard people talking about how interesting your work is. You’re quite the catch, you know.” If Keith thought he had been stunned before, he couldn’t imagine the look on his face after Shiro said that.

“What?”

“You’re the best in your classes, Keith! You should be proud of yourself.”

“If you say so.” 

The giddy feeling that sat in his chest afterwards didn’t leave him all day, but Shiro didn’t need to know that.

* * *

After their run-in at the exhibition, Allura and her friends began acknowledging Keith around campus. Living near the city center, occasionally they would pile into Castleship Cafe whilst Shiro was working - throwing their bags down at the table next to where Keith would sit, waiting for his friend’s shift to end.

“What is _that_?” Lance stared at Keith’s drink in mimed-horror. Keith blinked in confusion as he looked up at the boy now standing next to him. 

It seemed as if Lance was incapable of starting a conversation with a simple ‘ _Hey Keith!_ ’ or a ‘ _How are you?_ ’. It always seemed to be ‘ _What’s this?’, ‘Did you try some of Hunk’s homemade cakes?’ ‘Why are you always in the exact same seat in here?_ ’; Lance’s personal favourite was ‘ _When was the last time you had a haircut? Honestly, Keith - it’s definitely in mullet territory by now_ ’. 

Whilst he wouldn’t admit it out loud, Keith had started to find it slightly endearing. How was he so upfront with his questions, so teasing and familiar, even with people he hardly knew? It ended up making Keith a lot more comfortable around him, and he couldn’t help but be thankful for it.

“A caramel frappuccino with extra cinnamon dolce syrup and two servings of whipped cream. Why?” 

All he got in response was a grim stare and a shake of the head. Lance walked away from the table as his name was called, picking up his own drink from the counter - a hot chocolate with no cream or marshmallows - before sitting down opposite Keith.

That day, Lance had come in alone for the first time. Keith was surprised to see the boy sitting with him - I mean, they had only known each other for a couple of weeks. Was he ready to have an entire conversation with him? Oh god, Shiro still had an hour or so left. Keith could barely get through ten minutes without stumbling over his own words.

“So you wait for Shiro here most days, huh?” Another question, same as always.

“Yeah, we live just down the road from here and I get free drinks so it’s all good.”

“So _that’s_ why you get all the fancy flavours - taking advantage of the system. I get you. I don’t understand how you get through all that sugar though.” Lance shivered. “My mamá would throttle me if I ordered that. I always give my dessert to my niece at family dinners - I think Hunk has completely over exhausted my desire for sweet stuff.”

“I’ll never get sick of sugar; if Hunk baked for me every single day and I think I'd have no choice but to marry him.” Keith said, immediately sinking back into his seat as he realised what he had suggested. He hardly even knew Hunk! What if Lance told him and he thinks it’s weird, and he loses the only ‘friends’ that he has made in half a year of college? Oh god, this is a nightm-

“I don’t blame you, the man is a saint. I’d lie if I said I haven’t thought about locking him down myself, but I think he’s got a thing going with a girl who majors in Fashion. Looks like we’re both out of luck there.” Lance laughed, sipping his drink. 

Keith tilted his head in a question, marveling at the relaxed manner that his peer held himself in. Relief coursed through his veins at the fact that he _hadn’t_ started backtracking about the Hunk comment. Keith began to think that maybe he should just trust his gut and talk, that’s what Lance does right?

 _The difference between me and Lance_ , Keith thought, _is that Lance is built to fit in everywhere he went_. He's only met him a couple times, and yet wherever he seems to be - he is in his element. Chatting to strangers, strolling through campus, joking about how he would marry his friends.

Keith, on the other hand, wasn’t built to fit in anywhere. Barely being able to pay rent to Shiro, having no home to go back to once Shiro _inevitably_ gets sick of him and asks him to leave, having no parents to support him when things get rough. There wasn’t much room in the world for Keith Kogane.

He surprised himself with his next question - it slipped out with hardly any consideration.

“So… you have a big family then?”

Lance’s face lit up. 

“Yeah! Most of them live back in Varadero, so I only get to see them over the holidays. My brother Marco comes to visit us up here sometimes, though. I swear him and Hunk are gonna team up and get me kicked out of my own family - I'm such a third wheel with them!” He giggled, and Keith couldn’t help the warmth that spread across his own face - seeing him talk with such enthusiasm was doing good things for his heart.

“What’s your home like?” Keith urged, not wanting Lance to stop talking. He soon realised that he wouldn’t need to prompt the other boy - it seemed that he could talk about his home forever.

“It’s amazing! We live about ten minutes from this secluded beach that only the locals visit; I would swim there before school almost every morning. The sand feels like it’s burning your feet if you go midday, so me and my brothers would race into the water to cool down as soon as we took our shoes off. The water is warm too, it’s so much better than any of the swimming pools here - nothing can beat the open ocean.” He sighed longingly. “Sometimes I feel like I was made to be in the water.” 

There was a beat of silence as Keith stared at the other boy. Lance, with his eyes closed and mouth in a lazy smile - grasping his drink loosely between his hands on the table in front of him. He could tell that Lance was lost in his memories - rocking his head very slowly side to side in a calming manner. Before he knew it, Keith found himself reaching into his bag, and grabbing a hold of his camera. 

He jumped, dropping it back into his bag when Lance suddenly opened his eyes and shifted in his seat - losing all of his previous grace as he scrambled to get a sentence out.

“I bet that sounds really stupid oh my god. I sound like some kid in a teen drama. This isn’t _Percy Jackson,_ Lance. Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all sappy. I just-” Lance was speaking so fast that Keith could barely keep up.

“Lance!” Keith cut into his rambling, a wave of confidence coursing through him. “It’s fine. If I didn’t want to hear it then I wouldn’t have asked. It’s nice to hear you talk about something you like instead of just asking me questions all the time.” A light smile grazed his lips.

To Keith’s surprise, Lance actually blushed. Lance, who was unafraid to make loud, unfiltered remarks to strangers and tease his friends for the things they liked, was speechless and red in the face because Keith had shown an interest in his home life. He was looking at Keith with this unreadable look, as if he was staring into his brain and picking apart the other boy's thoughts. Keith's long hair fell over his face as he instinctively turned his head downwards, wanting to escape the piercing gaze of those startling blue eyes.

Before he could think anything else of it, Lance had jumped back into the conversation - a smirk playing at his lips, a complete 360 of the look he had been giving Keith a moment before.

“Wait… you just made a joke! You just made fun of me for asking you lots of questions!” Mocking disbelief oozed through his words. “I get it Keith. I’m impressed at the effort.”

The conversation felt a little bit easier after that, but Keith couldn't seem to get Lance's tinted red face out of his mind.

* * *

Soon, Shiro was walking out from the back with his bag slung over his shoulder, and they were exchanging goodbyes with Lance as they headed their separate ways.

“I’m proud of you.” They had been walking for a couple of minutes in a comfortable silence before Shiro spoke.

“Why?”

“You spoke to someone.”

Keith scoffed. “I’m not an idiot, Shiro. I know how to talk to people.”

“I know, I just haven’t seen you that engrossed in a conversation since before-” He trailed off, leaving it unspoken. They both knew what he was talking about.

“Yeah, yeah.” Keith mumbled, ending that conversation for the time being.

"Lance is a good kid."

"Your point being?"

"What, i'm not allowed to compliment your friends?"

"He isn't really- we aren't-"

"Akira." He cut him off. "If he wasn't your friend, he wouldn't have sat down with you and talked with you for an hour."

"Okay." Shiro scoffed teasingly, realising the younger boy didn't believe him.

"... and he certainly wouldn't have blushed like _that_ if you were just _acquaintances_." 

"Takashi!" Keith cried, gaping at the boy next to him - who had to brace himself on the wall of the alleyway next to him because he was laughing so hard.

"What, you thought I wouldn't notice the way you were looking at him? I was standing behind that damn counter the _whole time_!"

"Shut up." He mumbled, feeling heat crawling across his face.

"It's nice to see you happy, shutterbug." Keith just responded by shoving the man walking next to him, running ahead and leaving him there.

They ended up racing each other home, laughing the whole way.

It wasn’t until they were outside their apartment door, Shiro reaching inside his bag for the keys, when Keith had realised something.

He had reached into his bag for his camera. To take a _picture_ of _Lance_. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

Memories seemed to bombard his thoughts; a swell of emotion opening up in his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: death of a parent, talk of hospitals (no mentions of needles/blood or anything), abandonment issues
> 
> its flashback time babey

“Akira, do you understand?” 

Keith’s father sat beside him, the endless sky acting as a roof to the dream world that he had come to associate with nights like this. He felt as if the stars were in reach - like he could pluck the constellations out of the sky and cradle them in his arms if he really wanted to.

It was the summer of his sophomore year of high school. The desert nights were cold, but it was okay because he was sitting next to his father, a blanket laying over their legs as they stared up at the sky. The man beside him seemed to radiate warmth, in every sense you could imagine.

But, in that moment, Keith couldn’t keep out the cold feeling that pulled at his heart as his father spoke.

“Yes, Chichi.” 

“You’ll be okay when i’m gone. You are resourceful and talented, your sharp eye with a lens rivals even your mother’s.” Keith’s attempt at a scowl turned into a wince. “Don’t look at me like that - she was a great woman.”

Fighting about his mother wasn’t worth it; Keith had learnt that years ago. Despite his father’s adoration for her, Keith just couldn’t avoid the animosity that he radiated at the mention of the woman who had abandoned them. 

“I don’t want to be alone.” The younger boy said, unable to keep the silent pleading out of his words as his voice cracked. “I’ll miss you.”

Warm arms enveloped him into a hug, letting Keith’s tears remain private as his head rested on his father’s shoulder. Whilst he was thankful that they were acknowledging the unavoidable events that would soon come to pass, the misery that accompanied it still remained fierce and unyielding. 

“You aren’t alone Aki-kun. The world is yours. Life will go on, you just have to think about me and i’ll be there.” Keith was pushed away by strong hands on his shoulders, his father looking at him with a small smile tugging at his lips - silent tears tracking down his cheeks. “Now, let's take a picture, shall we?”

* * *

Keith’s mother had left when he was only a couple of years old. His memory didn’t stretch back that far, but occasionally he got flashes of her. Warm, violet eyes staring down at him lovingly, a slender hand drawing circles on his back, coming up to push his too-long hair out of his adolescent face. She seemed to weave an aggressively protective feeling around her son.

He didn’t remember her going. Just that her presence was suddenly missing.

All he could remember was his father’s strong disposition crumbling whenever Keith mentioned her, the sadness that tinted his smile when he spoke of the times they had together. _She is the root of his pain_ , Keith's angst ridden brain screamed, _and i’ll never forgive her for it._

In the evening of his thirteenth birthday, Keith’s father gave him a small shoe box - it was worn down at the edges and coated in dust. Wearing a question on his face, Keith had pulled the lid off to find a letter sitting on top of a wrapped up present. His father motioned for him to read it, wearing that same sad-smile.

_To my beautiful boy Akira,_

_I do not doubt that you are upset with me. From when I first held you in my arms, so young and unknowing, I knew that you would be like me - fierce in the way you love, fierce in the way you hate. Not being able to see the man that you have likely became pains my heart, but I had no choice but to do what I did. I want you to remember that._

_I know it may not seem like much, but I want you to have this. It will immortalise the best things in your life, so keep it close and never second guess your impulses._

_Happy Birthday - you are forever in my heart._

_Love from Mom_

Alongside the note laid a photograph of Keith in his mother’s embrace. It seemed to be a very personal moment - no posing or falseness at all. She was gazing at the boy in her arms, her mouth quirked up in a smile as the baby held her nose with a look of determination, something unspoken between them. Keith’s younger self was easy to recognise - always having a thick mop of hair on his head and striking violet eyes, just like his mother. The photo was sweet, a pained laugh escaped Keith’s lips without a second thought. They look like a real family here.

The photo had been taken around the time she left.

Hands shaking, Keith settled the letter down next to him and unwrapped the small parcel. He held an old film camera in his hands, carefully turning it over and inspecting it.

“I have all of her photos under my bed, if you would like to see them.” His dad whispered. Keith froze. He could hardly process all of the thoughts racing through his brain at that moment. He wanted to scream, laugh, cry, punch his dad, break the camera, be held in a tight hug, rip up the letter, go searching for his mom and never stop until he found her. Instead, he just sat there.

“No.” He barked out, surprising himself. “I’m going to bed.” 

He stormed out, a waterfall of tears pouring from his eyes.

It took him a couple of weeks, but soon he found himself sitting on his bedroom floor whilst his father showed him how to load the film, adjust the dials, and shoot a picture.

“There is no wrong way to make art, Aki. You can take pictures of whatever you want - i’ll help you develop them in our shack.” 

Keith thought back to his mother’s letter. _Immortalise the best things in your life._ He didn’t hesitate before turning to his father and pushing the trigger. The soft _click_ the camera made comforted him. From that day on, his father was his favourite thing to photograph.

He decided that portraiture was the best thing in the world. Carrying his camera everywhere, he would photograph his father as he drove their beat up car through the suburbs as they began their monthly trip to the desert. He photographed him making them breakfast in the mornings, capturing the timid smile he wore as he spoke about his mother and how she liked her eggs. Keith had a collection of pictures of the man, all sitting in an ever-growing photo album that sat on the shelf in his room. His dad was his best friend. Even as he started getting older, he was never ashamed of that fact.

Every time the two of them went out to their shack in the desert, they would bring the roles of film that the boy had filled - developing them after the sun had gone down, using a dull, red light bulb to light the room. Whilst they hung them up to dry, they would sit on the cliff side - looking up at the stars.

* * *

Keith ended up missing the majority of his junior year, spending his days at his father’s bedside. The hospital had become his home, only being pulled away from it when Shiro (the son of some close family friends) would pick him up in his car and invite him to sleep in his spare room. Shiro was renting a flat nearby in the city, having just started college, and was more than happy to accommodate for the younger boy. Keith hadn't wanted to go home alone, and had no close family to care for him. He was reluctant to leave the hospital at all and, if it wasn't for Shiro, he would have slept on the cold, plastic chairs in the waiting room.

The days all seemed to roll into one - he would get up, Shiro would drive him to the hospital before heading to his lessons, and he would sit at his father’s bedside. It hurt him to see the man he had looked up to _so much_ get worse each day. Nurses would weave between each section of the room where they sat, gently pulling back the curtains and offering Keith some company. They were good to him.

He began bringing his camera with him, thankful to have something that felt normal. His father encouraged him to use it, knowing that his son needed a distraction from his sunken cheeks and frail body. Even on his deathbed, he wanted to distract and care for the boy. The two were very alike in the way that they would always prioritise the lives of others over their own.

“Are you just going to hold that camera in your lap all day, or are you going to get up and take some pictures?” He would tease, trying his best to keep his voice even and strong.

“What is there to take pictures of, though?”

“Open your eyes, Aki. There is no wrong way to make art.” That phrase had been repeated by his father more times than he could count, and Keith couldn’t help but roll his eyes - this time, the action lacked conviction. 

“Can I take a picture of you?” He asked, after a moment of silence, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course.”

That’s how Keith came to photograph all the nurses and doctors who he had become so familiar with, as well as the regulars who he sat among in the waiting room outside of visiting hours. The first person he spoke to was an elderly woman with brown, wrinkled skin. She had a warmth about her that he recognised in his father; wearing that similar, easy smile that deepened the crows feet around her eyes. She began bringing him extra homemade food in her packed lunch, noticing how he eyed the veggie quesadillas that she brought in a tub one day. Keith had been losing weight all the time, living off egg-mayonnaise sandwiches from the cafe downstairs. 

She told him about her wife being stuck in hospital after getting breast-cancer for the second time, and how they had been told that this time it was incurable. Even as she spoke about it, she remained softly spoken and warm - she had accepted what was going to happen. There didn't seem to be any of the ugly, crawling grief that Keith couldn't seem to keep out of his own words when he spoke of his father. The two women had been together since they were teenagers, keeping their romance a secret until the world was ready for it. She considered herself lucky that they had lived this long. 

Keith would console her gently, focusing on keeping the tears out of his own eyes as she told him stories of their lives together. They ended up sitting together every day, and he finally decided to photograph her just as she was reaching into her tub - telling Keith about the lunch that her grandchildren had helped her prepare for them both. She was very flattered, eyes lighting up when he told her about his love of photography. He would avoid talking about his father's condition, but was happy to tell her all about the photos he had taken of him. He spoke of all the nights they had spent developing them together, and the excitement that came with watching a picture slowly fade into existence on the glossy paper.

One day, she stopped coming in.

Then there was the middle aged man who came in with his six year old daughter most afternoons. Keith never asked him why they were there, as he didn’t want to cross any personal boundaries, so he settled for asking about mundane things instead. Turns out, the little girl was named Phoebe, and she adored space - Keith chuckled to himself as she spouted off the names of the planets and facts about each one, pride practically dripping through her voice. Her father’s gaze was always soft as he watched her climbing onto the seat next to Keith, grabbing his arm excitedly as she spoke. The man grew more tense as the weeks dragged on, his leg jogging the row of seats nervously - exhaustion evident in his voice as he chatted to Keith. Whoever they were here to visit was clearly getting worse. Selfishly, he was glad to have their company - despite the circumstances. Phoebe would often curl up at his side and fall asleep, mumbling that he was warm.

One day, Phoebe ran into the waiting room and headed straight for Keith - an unfiltered, gappy smile playing at her lips.

“Look!” She said, holding a piece of paper up that was almost the width of her arms. It was a map of the solar system, each planet hand-coloured and stuck onto it. He could see the smudges of glue against the black background, and the jumbled mix of colours that she clearly spent hours drawing with. Underneath each planet, she had written its name and a fact about it in white pencil - hardly legible in her untrained hand.

“Wow! That is so amazing, where did you buy it?”

“I made it.” She beamed.

“No way! You _must_ have bought it from an artist.” 

“Nuh-uh, look! My name is on it!”

“Oh my goodness, you are so talented!” He gaped, ruffling her hair affectionately. 

“I made it for you.” She pushed it into his hands, blushing.

“Oh Phoebe, I can’t accept this.” Keith looked up to her father, now standing behind her.

“Take it, Keith. You’re a good kid.” The man spoke up, a twinge of sympathy in his voice. He looked relaxed; it was the first time in weeks the man looked as though he had gotten a full nights sleep. Keith couldn't say the same about himself.

“Thank you.” He choked, not sure why he was getting so emotional. A boy that looked to be around Keith’s age walked up to them, a backpack loose over his shoulder. His skin was pale and eyes sunken, but he had a lazy grin on his face that flooded Keith with a sense of relief. They were leaving that day, and they were all going to be okay.

The family was more than happy to be in his picture, and the last time he saw them he couldn’t help the slight twist of jealousy that sat in his gut.

Shiro came to visit him too. Sitting beside him at his father’s bedside whilst the older man slept. He seemed to spend more time asleep than awake in his final weeks. The two would talk in hushed voices, discussing anything and everything. The hospital was a place with no boundaries, so why would their conversations be any different.

His new friend encouraged Keith to open up about his feelings; the things he loved, the things he hated. Keith explained how he had fallen for a boy in the seventh grade, but he had never told his father about it. In exchange, Shiro spoke of the secrets he had kept from his parents - he expressed the relief he felt that he could finally get them off his chest. Both of them being only-children, they seemed to fill a void that the other had been missing for a long time. Keith's love for photography seemed to come up a lot, with Shiro explaining how the college he attended was renowned for the photography course they offered. It gave the younger boy something to look forward to, and he was very grateful for that.

Keith also found himself talking about his heritage; how his Japanese father had met his Texan mother at an art exhibition in Tokyo - both of them trying to sneak in, neither having been able to get a ticket. He thought about how his father's eyes had once lit up every time he had told that story, but Shiro seemed to enjoy it just as much.

Laughter felt out of place at his dying father’s bedside, but it was a nice sound nonetheless.

Keith hadn’t opened up to anyone as much as he had to Shiro, not even his father. Photographing him felt like a crime. He hated the feeling of betrayal that lingered when he reached for his camera and shot. This was supposed to be reserved for his family; was he really replacing his father so soon? 

* * *

When it was apparent that his father’s condition had made a turn for the worst, the staff had moved him into his own personal space. Whilst the ward hadn’t been the worst thing in the world, Keith found his father’s steady, shallow breathing (that he could only hear in the quiet of the private room) much more comforting than the constant chat that could be heard when they were sat among the other patients.

White walls, monitors, the warmth of the sunset streaming through the blinds - casting shadows across his father’s face, highlighting how painfully frail he had become. It all became too familiar. 

Constant misery seemed to swim around Keith’s mind when he sat there at the bedside. It was like he had been trapped in time; each day feeling longer than the last, his father getting worse and worse but stubbornly staying alive. Keith knew he was holding on for him - wanting to be with his son for as long as possible. 

Keith couldn’t help but wish that he would let go. 

“How can I be so selfish?” He muttered aloud one day.

“What’s wrong?” Shiro turned to him, eyebrows knitted together.

“I just… want this to be over.” Keith whispered, head hanging so his hair covered his face. “I want to go home.”

“We can leave whenever you want.”

“That’s not what I meant.” A beat of silence. “I want to walk out of here with my dad, get in his car, and go out to the desert. I want to sit with him under the stars while he points out the constellations. I want him to tell me about my mum - no matter how mad she makes me.” 

Shiro knew there was nothing he could say to that, so he just held Keith’s arm encouragingly. 

“I want him to rest.”

“He will, Akira. He will.”

* * *

The last picture taken in the hospital was one of his dad’s final times awake. He could feel himself slipping away, and he told his son that a picture of the two of them together was long overdue. Shiro stood at the end of the bed, listening intently as Keith explained how to use the relic in his hands. Once they had taken it, Keith’s father had smiled up at his son. 

“I’m proud of you, Aki-kun.”

“I know, Chichi.”

He died that night, shortly after the two boys had left.

* * *

Keith used almost three rolls of film over the months he spent at the hospital. He never had the courage to develop them.

* * *

The day of the funeral fell in the middle of a heatwave. The sun wrapped around Keith's shoulders; the heat drawn to his black suit and thick mop of dark hair. Despite the uncomfortable feeling of sweat pooling at the base of his spine and under his collar, he couldn't help but think that this had something to do with his father. It was like the sun was giving back all of the warmth that the man lying six feet under had radiated through his lifetime. Believing that some part of him was there in spirit didn't make it any less difficult, though. Keith had never really believed in that sort of thing anyway.

It was a small turnout - just Keith and Shiro's family, then a couple of people who he recognised from the pictures in his dad's old photo albums. School friends, he guessed. These strangers would give him unspoken nods of encouragement, a pat on the back, a squeeze of his hand. Usually, Keith would've been uncomfortable with all of the attention - but his mind was preoccupied. A small part of him wondered if his mom would show. There was a slither of hope there that he couldn't seem to squash, no matter how hard he tried.

She didn't.

After the ceremony, when everybody had left, he stood by his father’s grave. He was sixteen.

“I’m not gonna do portraiture anymore.” He whispered, feeling angry at his mom for leaving him that stupid camera. At himself, for all the pictures he had taken of a man he would never see again. He grieved for all the pictures he would never get to take of him, all the things they would never get to do toegther. “Nobody will ever replace you. I promise.”

Keith had gotten very good at holding himself together. Not a single tear was shed, that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tragic backstory unlocked !
> 
> Japanese Keith has my heart <3 'Chichi' just means 'father', and i LOVE the headcannon that Keith's given name is Akira so we ran with it. 'Aki-kun' is supposed to be a loving way of saying his name (instead of a pet name like 'sweetheart' or something) BUT if im not using the terms correctly please let me know!!! I would really appreciate the help <3
> 
> also Shiro is of course quite close to Keith, so he'll sometimes refer to him by his given name too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> compulsory beach chapter because THATS WHAT WE DESERVE !!! (buff allura <3)
> 
> tw: bad dreams, symptoms of ptsd, mentions of death of a parent
> 
> p.s. im so sorry for such a long wait!!! im gonna be honest... my adhd completely erased this fic's existence from my brain BUT im back on it now B)

After that evening in the coffee shop with Lance, Keith didn’t go into college for a week. It seemed trivial, but his instinct to photograph Lance had brought back a lot of unwanted memories. He found himself awake early hours in the morning, sweating and swallowing down bile - his mind racing. Holed up in his room, Keith just couldn’t bring himself to leave. Living on such little sleep, there would be no use going anyway.

That didn’t stop Shiro from dragging him to the cafe every time he was working - pulling him from his dark room and coaxing him down the road with the promise of free food and drink. Keith was very thankful that his friend didn’t pressure him to talk about it; this wasn’t his first struggle against the past. During his senior year of high school, Shiro had tried to convince the younger boy to go to a counsellor - many arguments and uncomfortable interactions later, they had both started to avoid the conversation entirely. Shiro showed his support in non-verbal ways instead.

Despite it having been almost two years now since his father died, the latter part of his high school years still liked to creep up on Keith - pulling him under, grasping him by the throat when he least expected it. He would plunge into the familiar landscape of the hospital room every time he closed his eyes, nausea lodging itself in his stomach, clawing its way up his throat as his father’s shriveled figure stared up at him. Sometimes, his body wouldn’t be there at all - just a pile of bloody, rotting bones lying on his pillow instead. Sometimes, Shiro would lie in his place; his prosthetic arm ripped from his body, deep red pools staining the crisp sheets below him as he cried out for help. 

Keith could never speak or move, just watch. Helpless.

A part of him knew that it would be wise to listen to the advice Shiro had given him, to seek professional help, but these dreams had always been few and far between. Until recently, at least. He knew the anniversary was coming up - the evenings had started stretching out, the sun refusing to stay below the horizon for more than a few hours. It was a shame, really, that the summer months had begun to bring him so much pain.

Luck didn’t tend to be on his side, but that apparently changed that week - he hadn’t seen any of his newly appointed ‘friends’ while he sat in the Castleship Cafe. This meant he could quietly catch up on his work, not worrying about how awful he must’ve looked - greasy hair, skin breaking out, an absent look in his eyes - the distasteful glances that came from some of the customers spoke for themselves. 

Friday that week, Keith hadn’t bothered to even change out of his pyjamas. The days prior, he had at least thrown on some joggers and a jacket. But, by the time the last weekday had rolled around, exhaustion had sunk so deep into his core that he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Even Shiro had commented on it, suggesting he stayed at home that day - but Keith knew that he needed this. That night he had seen Shiro bleed out in front of him for the second time that week, and he really didn’t want to leave his side. Glancing at him as he made easy small talk with customers was the only thing keeping Keith’s mind at ease.

It had been about twenty minutes of relaxation as Keith sat hunched over his laptop, headphones in watching some documentary he had found online. He wasn’t thinking much about what was going on, he absently listened into the man’s deep, calming voice talking about some alien conspiracy about flying lions and unimaginable evil. It was enough to take his mind off the fact that he had been struggling to breathe for days now, chest tight with anxiety that he couldn’t shake.

Suddenly, a figure was slumping down into the seat next to him - joining him in the booth that he always claimed for himself. Pidge readjusted her glasses as she pulled his laptop towards her, sipping her coffee whilst pulling up the subtitles so she could watch it too. Keith was shocked at her casual manner, acting as if they had known each other for years rather than mere weeks. He debated on asking her to leave, but she seemed to sense that he wasn’t in a talkative mood. Plus, she wasn’t doing anything wrong, really. Resigned, he leaned back and continued watching.

As the credits started rolling, Pidge finally turned to the boy at her side.

“Where’ve you been all week? We didn’t see you around campus.”

“Been sick.” Technically he wasn’t lying.

“Could’ve told me that before I got so close to you!” She teased, but didn’t move away.

“‘s not contagious, don't worry.” There was something he couldn’t place in Pidge’s eyes as he said that, but she was smirking again in the next second.

“You know, Lance has been talking about you all week, I think he has missed seeing that mullet of yours.”

“It’s not even a mullet!” He exclaimed, feeling himself wake up a little at the mention of the other boy. His reaction made Pidge’s gap-toothed grin jump out.

“If you say so, cowboy.” 

“Pidge!”

“What’s going on over here, then?” Shiro appeared, taking the seat across from them. His apron was slung over his shoulder - he had just gotten on break.

“Lance has been drooling about Keith and his stupid hair ever since last week and I don’t think I can take it anymore.” Keith felt himself flush at that, sweating with embarrassment. 

“Is that so?” Shiro cocked his head at Keith, eyebrows raised. He got a very crimson glare in return. Pidge only laughed.

“Your man-flu has made my most annoying friend even more insufferable, so you have to do me a favor in return.” There was something slightly menacing about the grin Pidge wore as she readjusted her glasses.

Ignoring the man-flu comment, Keith looked at Pidge with a question in his eyes.

“Come to the beach with us this weekend. We are getting a bus down there at 7am tomorrow morning and camping overnight.” Pidge directed the question at both of them. “We make a bonfire and stuff. It’s fun.”

“That would be great!” Shiro answered for the two, getting in there before Keith could decline or find an excuse for himself. “Keith here has an assignment to work on, and the coast is a lovely setting for photos - don’t you think?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “We would love to.” Shiro directed that part at Keith, looking at him with stern eyes.

He was right, of course - Keith had been emailed his newest brief the day before. But just because his words held reason behind them, didn’t mean he wanted to listen. Having a big brother could really suck, sometimes.

* * *

By the time 6am rolled around the next day, Keith found himself hating Shiro more than he thought he ever could.

Okay, maybe he was being a bit dramatic about it, but he was exhausted - he hadn’t been to the beach in years, so he spent the morning rushing around just throwing whatever he deemed worthy in his bag.

“You’re wearing your gloves … to the beach?”

“Yeah? Why not?”

“Keith-”

“My hands might get cold!”

Shiro went to argue further, but instead just shook his head.

“Nevermind.”

It was a miracle that the two of them made it to the bus station on time, spotting the other group with no difficulty at all.

Hunk stood taller than the majority of the crowd, his figure would’ve been intimidating if not for the wide brim hat he wore paired with agonisingly bright swimming trunks and an equally imposing print shirt. He seemed to be in a deep, animated discussion with Allura - whose afro had been pulled back into twin bunches on top of her head, and was clad in a loose fitting dress with a floral backpack slung over her shoulder. Pidge was sitting next to them on top of a bag almost as big as her, most likely full with camping supplies and the tent itself. 

Then there was Lance.

Now, Keith was aware of his sexuality, his attraction to boys was undeniable - but it was times like these when he was made painfully aware of that fact. His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, starting to feel as though he was already lounging out in the midday heat. 

Lance was wearing blue swim shorts that stopped halfway down his thighs, the string tied in a loose bow where they sat on his hips. Pretty standard. What really caught Keith’s eye, however, was the tattoo.

Thick black lines peaked out from under his shorts on the side of his right leg, snaking up past the waistline all the way to his torso, stopping at the base of his ribs. Despite being obscured by his shorts, the pattern seemed to be an octopus - the tentacles just visible, the body hidden by the fabric. 

Despite having tattoos himself, Keith hadn’t even entertained the possibility that Lance would have one. Especially not one that big, constantly hidden by his daywear. That being said, he hadn’t really thought much about the other boy in the previous days - that is, until that moment. 

The way the design moved and twisted with every slight turn of Lance’s body was captivating, and Keith was hit with another mental shock when he realised that the reason the tattoo was visible above the shorts was because the brown skinned boy was wearing a crop top. Just a faded adidas tee that had obviously been hand cut in half, making way for his reasonably toned stomach. _Seriously?_

Keith was being tested by a greater power. He was sure of it.

“You alright there, buddy?”

Shiro’s voice is what finally snapped Keith out of it, visibly jumping at the sudden intrusion to his thoughts. He may as well have been speaking out loud, seeing the knowing look plastered on the man’s face. _Fuck, was I really being that obvious?_

“Y-yeah?” Despite his attempts at sounding confident, the crack in his response seemed to give his brother a new load of metaphorical ammunition. 

“Right. C’mon.” 

Keith let out a sigh of relief as Shiro dropped it … for now. They both started walking towards the group. 

“You made it!” Allura’s voice rang out as she pulled each of them into a brief, tight hug. 

“Hey Keith, you better have swimwear hidden under that winter get-up!” Lance teased. There was a slight edge to his voice that Keith couldn’t quite place; an analytical look in his eye. 

“It’s still kind of cold in the mornings, you know.” He lied, making a point to stuff his hands into his pockets in retaliation. They didn’t need to know about the steady trickle of sweat that was creeping down his arms - that was irrelevant. 

“He didn’t listen to me when I told him to dress more appropriately, so …” Shiro paused for dramatic effect, leaning forward slowly in tandem with everyone else. “I brought him a change of clothes, so don't worry!” The whole crew cheered at that, as if Keith was _everyone’s_ adoptive brother. It felt nice to be around people, despite the familiar heat that was creeping into his cheeks at the attention. 

It made his chest feel a tiny bit looser, at least.

After 10 minutes of casual greetings and nondescript chatting, their bus pulled up to the shelter they were stationed by. Shiro agreed to cover everyone’s fare, mostly as a way of thanks for the invite - nobody felt too bad, as he _was_ the only one earning from two jobs. 

The bus journey itself was quite uneventful. They took up the back row and adjacent seats around it. Pidge curled up into her seat, headphones drowning out Hunk and Lance’s incessant chatter. Keith also found himself dozing, jolting awake each time his head clumsily dropped to his chest. He was sat in the centre of the back row, in between the bags and bracketed by Shiro and Allura - also napping - with their heads against the windows. 

Travelling for a couple of hours by _bus_ wasn’t the best way to travel, but it was still nice to be around everyone on the way there. That being said, there were only so many times Keith could deal with waking himself up from the cusp of sleep without getting a bit antsy.

“Keith.” To his surprise, the gentle call had come from his left - Allura looked at him, a lazy smile on her lips. “You okay?”

It was then that he felt the ache in his face; he had been glaring intently at the floor throughout his mental tantrum, feeling like a kid all over again with this exhaustion-induced-anger.

He was still trying to catch up on his lack of sleep from the last week or so; it was to be expected that his mood wasn’t the best.

“Yeah, just can’t get comfy.” Keith’s voice was rough from misuse, quiet and scratchy. Considerably deeper than usual. He thought he heard Lance falter in his conversation, but looked up to see him continuing animatedly - a slight red tint to his cheeks. Well, it was quite hot on the bus, so nothing out of the ordinary.

“Here.” Allura pulled the bag off her seat, handing it to him. He looked puzzled until she patted the newly-made space next to her, finally understanding what she was getting at. He shuffled over, putting the bag where he had just been. He put his legs up on the seat in front of him, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

What he didn’t see was Allura shake her head, silently laughing to herself, realising that Keith hadn’t fully understood her invitation. When his breath began to even out with the telltale signs of sleep, she pulled his draped figure into her side - combing her fingers through his hair gently. 

He didn’t wake up until long after the ocean had come into view.

* * *

Nobody brought up Keith and Allura’s sleeping arrangement on the bus, a fact that he was very thankful for. Turns out, physical affection was very common amongst this group. He wasn’t surprised, but he definitely hadn’t expected to be _involved_ in that affection.

It was surprisingly nice.

“Okay, first: we set up camp.” Hunk led the team dutifully, strolling along the sidewalk, bathed in the sun as if he was made to be there. The midday had crept up on them as they had travelled on the bus, and Keith’s sweat levels had grown from a slight discomfort to a whole new level of gross. He gave up on his pride and pulled his jacket and gloves off, revealing the muscle top he had on underneath - mentally reminding himself to apply sun lotion when he got the chance, especially to cover his tattoo sleeve.

It only took a few minutes for Shiro to voice Keith’s previous passage of thoughts aloud, the younger boy brushing him off with feigned annoyance. _'I know how to look after my tattoos, Takashi!'_ \- They spent so much time bickering that they barely noticed when the ground under their feet became soft and the sound of the waves hitting the shore finally graced their ears. It was only when Hunk came to an abrupt stop, dropping his bag, that they realised they were here.

‘ _Here_ ’ being a secluded section of the beach, with tents scattered around them - each a good distance away from the next. Small, multicoloured huts blocked the view of the path that they had been walking across - giving them privacy away from the curious eyes of people passing by.

“My extended family own a few of the huts over there; this part of the beach is private, but property owners get access to it.” Hunk explained, having caught the slight disbelief across Keith’s face. “We migrated here from Hawaii, but most of my family stayed here by the sea - only my mothers chose to move further inland. We visit every few months, but i’m welcome to visit this beach whenever I want.” 

“That’s so cool.” Keith couldn’t keep the awe out of his voice. Hunk got a semi-private beach and a seaside hut, all Keith got was a shack in the middle of the desert. _Damn_.

“Anyway, that means we are allowed to set up our tents here _and_ have a barbeque!” Pidge whooped. She was trying to put up a six-man tent with Lance, the key word there being _trying_ , whilst Lance squawked indignantly that she was _‘too busy eavesdropping’_ to be much help at all. The current state of the tent was definitely proving him right.

Allura, having already changed into her bikini and applied sunscreen, walked over to them. She took charge instantly, the others listening intently as she instructed them on how to assemble the foundations and giving them roles to fulfill. It wasn’t long before they had finally pulled it together, especially after she dragged the other three in to help. 

By the time they had each claimed a section of a tent and thrown their bags inside, Lance was basically vibrating on the spot - so eager to get into the sea that he had barely rubbed in the last of his sunscreen before he was grabbing Allura’s arm and sprinting off.

  
  


“Your sleeve is pretty cool.” Pidge sat down on the towel next to Keith, not worried about the sand she had dragged onto it.

“Thanks. I didn’t think you’d be the type to be into tattoos.” Pidge laughed at that.

“I’m actually doing an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop at the moment, about to go full time.”

“Really? Nice.” Keith paused, looking back at her. “You… don't have any tattoos though?” 

“Sure I do.” Pidge rolled up the sleeves of her oversized t-shirt to reveal her upper arm. There, sequenced vertically, was a selection of cartoon faces. Each of them felt familiar, but he couldn’t quite place them. They seemed to be… robots? “I made the others out of trash when I was procrastinating on an assignment a few months ago, thought they turned out pretty cool. My friend who works at the tattoo shop, Nyma, inked them for me.”

“That’s really sweet.” Keith said, not even thinking about his soft response as he looked at them closer, admiring the details and now recognising who was who. He couldn't help the small chuckle that passed his lips as he looked at Lance's robot-clone.

“All my tattoos are dedicated to people in my life. They’re nice memoirs.” A sad smile crept along her face as she looked down at her leg, subconsciously running her hand across her upper thigh - which was hidden by her shorts. Keith sensed that there was something deeper there, but didn’t feel as if it was his place to ask.

“Hey… do you wanna go for a swim?” He questioned, instead. If it was him, he knew that he’d be grateful for a subject change. 

“Why not. Lance said the water’s pretty warm”

* * *

The water was _freezing_.

Keith had only swam in natural bodies of water a handful of times, but he never remembered it being quite this excruciating.

“Come on, buddy! You gotta swim around!” Lance laughed, bobbing with the soft waves a few meters further out. Keith hadn’t managed to make it in past his waist, thankful that the heat from the sun was keeping at least his arms and chest warm. 

“It’s fucking _cold_ , dude!” Keith shot back, his scowl lacking conviction. Lance just laughed at him, dipping underwater.

Keith assumed that he was swimming out to Allura, who was swimming parallel to the coastline - careful to keep her head above the water. He barely had time to process the tugging sensation at his ankles before he was dragged under. The seconds until he re-emerged were a blur, but as he stood back up he found himself with Lance locked between his arm and his waist.

Just as he went to let go and start apologizing, _‘it was just my instincts, I swear!_ ’, Lance had started laughing.

Once again he felt himself fall into the water as Lance kicked his legs out from under him, pushing him into the soft sand. Being this close to the shoreline, he could kneel on the ground and keep his head just above the waves. After their second fall, they locked eyes for a moment before grinning at one another, eyebrows drawn together.

From then on, it was all out war. Neither held back as they wrestled in the shallow water, pushing each other and running around (or as close to running as they could get against the current) for what felt like hours. Once or twice they got taken down by the force of the waves, laughing all the while. Allura and Shiro eventually joined in, giving them a common enemy as it became a two on two match. It wasn’t long before they went in slightly deeper, Keith on Lance’s shoulders and Shiro on Allura’s, each pair pushing each other with their hands locked. Allura, being much more built than Lance, caused their team to topple first - leaving Shiro laughing as Keith fell in backwards, legs locked around Lance's neck and pulling him under, too.

Hunk called them back to shore soon after that, having set up a portable barbeque and started cooking whilst the others were messing around. Pidge was nestled at his side, occasionally stealing slices of tomato from the pop-up table where Hunk was assembling the burgers. Despite having been made on the beach, the food he was preparing looked better than _anything_ Keith had ever cooked himself in the comfort of his kitchen. How one person managed to make barbeque burgers look _that good_ was a mystery.

“Hunk, you culinary god.” Lance practically moaned as he took his first bite out of his burger. There were hums of agreement from the rest of the circle.

The sun was much softer now, casting an orange glow across the beach. The wind had caught up a tiny bit, cooling everyone down without making them cold. Keith couldn’t help but stare at the way Lance fit in beautifully here. His ocean-themed tattoo even more pronounced ever since he had lost his shirt earlier on, dark skin peppered with freckles all over his chest and arms. His eyes almost glowed in the afternoon light; it was if they had been pulled from the ocean itself. So picturesque. 

Keith almost scoffed at his own train of thought, since when was he such a _sap_? Pretty boys weren’t good for his heart. He let his thoughts drift back to the other week in the coffee shop, when he had reached into his bag. Even now the camera felt like a weight in his chest as it sat in his bag in the tent. 

_Oh shit._

“I need to do my assignment photos!” Keith exclaimed aloud, scoffing down the last of his food before leaping up from his space and running to retrieve it. For once he was glad it was summer; he still had a couple hours of sun left to get some pictures.

Pulling his camera out and throwing on his muscle tee from earlier, he stepped out the tent. Seeing that everyone’s eyes were on him was jarring at first, but he relaxed quickly under their gazes - they had begun to feel a lot less like strangers over the course of the day.

“I’m gonna go take some pictures. Thanks for cooking, Hunk.” He said, strolling along the beach in the opposite direction. 

The bad thing about the beach being private was that there was _nothing_ _there_. He stuck close to shore, getting a few angles of the waves breaking and the sun reflecting on the ocean. But the sea was too calm and there’s only so much you can do with sparkling water. 

After a few minutes of frustration, Keith heard someone splashing along in the water parallel to him.

“How’s it going.” Lance questioned, dragging out the vowels.

Keith just grunted in response.

The two walked alongside each other, stopping every so often as Keith snapped a few more shots. Once again it was Lance that broke the silence first.

“What’s your brief?” 

“We are continuing the theme from the previous work we did. Mine was that-”

“-cave stuff, yeah.”

“Exactly. My theme for that was _‘Serendipity’_ which basically means I photographed something completely unplanned. I just got super lucky with what I found.”

“So you have to do something similar to that?”

“Yeah, pretty much. They want us to do something ‘ _completely opposite, but with the same theme_ ’ - whatever that means.” Keith sighed, sarcasm dripping from his tone as he quoted his professor's words. He really regretted picking this theme, especially now that he had hardly any time to think about what the _hell_ he should photograph. “It’s just a small follow-on, since our last project was a lot bigger. They’re trying to get us out of our comfort zones, I think.”

Lance just nodded, unusually quiet as he thought about any ideas he could supply. He continued walking along the coastline, drifting deeper into the water without seeming to notice. Keith stopped, watching the other boy walk ahead.

Before he could think about it, the shutter went off. Then again when Lance turned back to look at him, a blush creeping across his face and shoulders. Keith pushed away the nauseating feeling that tugged at his stomach, giving a small smile to the other boy as he lowered his camera. Lance began to laugh then, and Keith couldn’t help but pull the viewfinder to his eye once again.

* * *

The photos don’t stop there; Keith snapped pictures of all of them, adjusting the settings to accommodate the light from the campfire that they had lit as the sun sank from view. He gave up on taking photos for his project; he'd have to just submit the ones he took of the coast - even if they were kind of mediocre.

' _One half-assed photoset wont hurt._ ' He thought, ignoring his desire to constantly go above and beyond, for once.

The evening was wonderful. They laughed, played games, and chatted non-stop as a group. Pidge loved to team up with Hunk to embarrass Lance and, as much as he fought against it, Keith could tell that Lance adored the attention. It was sweet, to see them all so close.

Not long after, the musical instruments came out - as if this couldn't be any more of a cliché. With Pidge’s guitar and Allura’s singing, Keith wasn’t allowed a moment in his head to think about how he was breaking his promise to himself. His promise to his father.

He paid the price for it, though.

Hours after they had all settled into bed, all too tired to stay up late or joke around, Keith woke up.

Well, ‘woke up’ is sort of an understatement. Woke up makes it sound like he lazily opened his eyes, stretching out his limbs after a good nights’ rest - but that couldn’t be further from what happened. He was surprised nobody else heard as he shot up, a rough gasp escaping his lips as his body began to tremble. It was quite cold now the sun had set, but he was soaked with sweat. 

He pulled a new pair of boxers and a loose fitting t-shirt on, thankful for the dividers in the tent, before creeping out through the main entrance. 

This dream had been slightly different from the others that had plagued him non-stop all week.

_He had been sitting by his father’s hospital bed, same as always, but the body had been covered by a white sheet. A hand had grabbed his, and he looked to his left to see Lance in the hospital room with him. But when he met the other boy’s eyes, he found his fathers’ sunken ones staring back at him._

_“You broke your promise.”_

Keith hadn’t even noticed he had started shaking again until he felt a hand reach out and grab his own, just like in the dream. He flinched hard despite the soft touch. The hand in his squeezed, but let go soon after.

“Keith? Are you okay?” 

Of course it was Lance.

“Yeah, just…” A deep breath. “Bad dream.”

“Wanna walk?” Lance didn't push, just walked ahead as if he already knew the answer.

Not much is said that night, as the pair walked back and forth across the long stretch of sand, but Keith is thankful for the silence and twice as thankful for the company.

**Author's Note:**

> Lets gooooooo!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Ive never actually read an artist!au but i keep thinking about photographer keith like <33
> 
> of COURSE he constantly works with a film camera - this dude Cannot be bothered to charge a modern one + is a nostalgic fool


End file.
